The Rose
by Bess
Summary: Paris Geller compares her life to the lives of those around her and realizes she doesn't have it so bad. *complete*


"The Rose"  
  
songfic. This is a Bette Midler song that my chorus sang a few years back. It's really beautiful.  
  
Disclaimer: Yeah, because I acquired all the rights to "Gilmore Girls" last night. I don't own the song either.  
  
Summary: Paris Geller compares her life to the lives of those around her and realizes that she doesn't have it so bad. Future fic.  
  
A/N: Okay, so I was sick today and slept until 12:30. I'm currently very hyper and very awake. I have no clue how this is going to turn out, but I thought I'd try it. Remember to review! If you only write one word I'll feel great for the ENTIRE day. Serious.  
  
@#@#@  
  
*Some say love  
  
It is a river  
  
That drowns  
  
The tender reed*  
  
Paris Geller walked along the canal trying to avoid looking at all the happy couples. She could still hear the music from the wedding she'd passed a few minutes ago. It was times like these that she wished she'd invested in a pair of earplugs the last time she had gone to the drug store.  
  
*Some say love  
  
It is a razor  
  
That leaves  
  
Your soul to bleed.*  
  
Paris took this trip to escape all this mushy love stuff. Well, that wasn't completely true. It had actually been a recommendation from her boss. She'd been working nearly 24 hours a day, 7 days a week since her boyfriend left her a few months before.  
  
*Some say love  
  
It is a hunger  
  
An endless  
  
Aching need.*  
  
Who chose this song? She thought to herself. It's corny, not to mention the incorrect grammar. But at the same time she had to admit Bette Midler had a point. Back in high school, when she had felt unrequited love for Tristan Dugray, she'd always had an empty feeling in her stomach, as if there was something missing and she couldn't quite replace it.  
  
*I say love  
  
It is a flower  
  
And you  
  
It's only seed.*  
  
She still remembered the day Tristan had asked her out. She had felt wonderful; a sense of completeness blossoming inside of her.  
  
*It's the heart  
  
Afraid of breaking  
  
That never  
  
Learns to dance.*  
  
Paris had received a number of offers to the winter formal back in tenth grade, but she'd been too afraid to accept any of them. Her parents had been fighting more and more often at the time, and she heard whisperings of divorce among the people her parents employed. She knew that by taking her cousin, Jacob, she was pretty much safe from a broken heart, and she believed the phrase "better safe than sorry." Besides, she didn't know how to dance.  
  
*It's the dream  
  
Afraid of waking  
  
That never  
  
Takes the chance.*  
  
She didn't sleep for the first few weeks after Michael (her ex) left. She was afraid that if she slept she'd dream, and if she dreamed, she'd dream of him, or worse, of the two of them together.  
  
*It's the one  
  
Who won't be taken  
  
Who can not  
  
Seem to give.*  
  
She stopped wallowing when he'd been gone for three weeks. She decided then and there that she couldn't let a man control her life. She wouldn't let a man control her life. She received a few offers for dates, but each time she said no. She devoted herself to her job, afraid to let anything else get in the way, afraid to let anyone in.  
  
*And the soul  
  
Afraid of dying  
  
That never  
  
Learns to live.*  
  
It wasn't until she was checking her messages a few days before that she realized what she was missing.  
  
The first message was from Jacob, asking if he and his wife could stay with her when they came to Hartford for next month's family reunion. Paris didn't know why her family bothered having family reunions. Only half the people ever showed up, and those who did show up did nothing but yell at each other for the entire weekend.  
  
The second message was from her Uncle Jeff and contained a similar request, but it was the third message that really made Paris think.  
  
"Hi Paris? This is Rory Gilmore. I don't know if you remember me, but we went to Chilton together. Anyway, I was looking through a bunch of old boxes yesterday and I came across a few copies of `the Franklin.' It made me think of you and I thought I'd drop you a line and see how you were doing. I'm great. I'm married to a wonderful guy named Steven, and we're expecting our first child next month. We're still in Stars Hollow. If you want to call the number is 762-0539 (A/N for those of you who just picked up the phone to dial that number and talk to Rory, PUT IT BACK DOWN, I made the number up. And if it's your number, I didn't know, it came from my head at 2:43 AM.) Hope to talk to you soon."  
  
*When the night  
  
Has been too lonely  
  
And the road  
  
Has been too long.*  
  
Paris did remember Rory, and when she heard her familiar voice coming from the answering machine she knew she had been wrong. She shouldn't be hiding in her work, that was such a lonely thing to do. She should be spending time with her old friends and making some new friends as well. She'd come a long way since high school, but hse still had a long way to go, an wasn't it better to travel with friends?  
  
*And you think  
  
That love is only  
  
For the lucky  
  
And the strong.*  
  
While Paris had come to this resolution, she was still afraid to open up her heart. Maybe love wasn't for her. Maybe it was just for people like Rory Gilmore. People who'd gone against the odds to achieve what they wanted. After all, while it had take a lot of work for Paris to get into Harvard, she han't gotten a full scholarship. She hadn't needed to. No, that was Rory. And while she'd been accepted among the Puffs, it had been because of nepotism. Rory, on the other hand, had just asked if she could sit down.  
  
*Just remember  
  
In the winter  
  
Far beneath  
  
The bitter snows  
  
Lies the seed  
  
That with the sun's love  
  
In the spring  
  
Becomes the Rose.*  
  
As these thoughts were swirling aound in Paris' head she spotted a dash of color out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to see a single, red rose growing out of the melting snow between a bench and a bush. She walked over and bent to examine it. As she turned back to the path she jumped backwards, almost trampling over the poor thing. Standing in front of her was a tall man with short brown hair and gorgeous features.  
  
"Aren't you going to pick it?" he asked her.  
  
"Nope. If I pick it then it will wilt and die and never grow again. But if I leave it then it will be here next year for someone else to find."  
  
"Interesting way to put it. Name's Kevin," he said holding out his hand.  
  
"Paris," she said shaking it.  
  
"That's a nice name."  
  
"I've always thought so."  
  
"You know it means `lover.'"  
  
"I've heard things."  
  
They walked off down the path. Then again, Paris thought There's always a second chance. 


End file.
